


and I won't slow down

by nuuclears



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Road Trip, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 20:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9785492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuuclears/pseuds/nuuclears
Summary: Patrick just assumed it was something they weren’t gonna talk about in the light of day. Much less like this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> just a silly little thing inspired by the road trips I've taken. title from 10 West by Chuck Ragan (even if that's about Cali not east coast, whatever).

“Boom, baby!” Patrick crows. “That is how you make Kayak your bitch!”

Jonny glances over at him, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Found us a room then, eh?” he asks.

Patrick snorts. “You’re fuckin right, last one in the state, ‘ehhh’,” he answers, drawing out the last vowel obnoxiously. Jonny’s over-sized aviators might be hiding half his face right now, but it’s enough to know he’s for sure rolling his eyes behind them. “Now say ‘you’re the master of hotels, Patrick’,” he instructs.

“I’m the master of hotels, Patrick,” Jonny robotically parrots. 

It’s so fucking lame, Patrick can’t help but cackle. “You’re so fucking lame,” he tells Jonny, just to be sure he knows.

“Your mom is lame,” Jonny predictably mutters, attention mostly focused on changing lanes to pass the Dodge Caravan cruising along just barely at the speed limit. 

“Weeeeaaaak,” Patrick says. “That’s just sad, man. My mom’s the fucking best, and you know it.”

“Mmmm,” Jonny says, “I don’t know if your mom’s the _fucking_ best.” Patrick can see the douchey smirk creeping over his face. He’s gonna say something obnoxious and Patrick’s going to have to hit him, he just knows it. 

“That might be your sisters,” Jonny continues.

“Hey, you take that back,” Patrick demands, punching Jonny’s arm none too gently.

“I’m just saying, have you seen Erica late- fuck, OW!” He breaks off, as Patrick pinches his exposed bicep harder, and the wheel jerks, swerving the car for a second before he gets it back under control.

“Hey, _hey_!” Jonny yells, blindly shoving Patrick’s hand away. “Not while I’m driving, asshole! You wanna end up in the ditch?” He’s glaring at the car in front of them, hands clenched on the wheel and Patrick can tell he’s pissed. Of course. Of course he would take road safety seriously.

“Alright, alright,” Patrick subsides, settling back in his seat. “Jesus, don’t talk shit about my sisters then.”

“Oh, please,” Jonny scoffs. “As if. Your sisters are like what, twelve?” 

“Not like that’s stopped half the guys from making eyes at Erica whenever she comes out,” Patrick mutters darkly, because Erica is eighteen, and pretty, and he’s seen those motherfuckers, okay. One of these days someone is going get ballsy enough to make a real pass and Patrick will have to end him.

“Yeah, well,” Jonny says. “It’s not like you have to worry about me anyway, cause, you know.” Jonny trails off awkwardly, and when Patrick looks over, he’s wearing his most constipated face.

“Cause you know…what?” Patrick leads, suspiciously. There’s a flush creeping up from Jonny’s tank and his shoulders are all high and uncomfortably tense.

“ _Because_ , you know,” Jonny says, haltingly. He stops again and Patrick prods him with an index finger. 

“What,” he demands narrowly.

Jonny blows out a harsh breath, shrugging him off jerkily. “Jesus. Because it’d be pretty gross to make a move on your sisters when I was balls deep in their brother the night before, don’t you think, Patrick?”

The way Patrick chokes on his own spit is far from dignified, as is the coughing fit that follows.

“Jesus christ, Toews,” he chokes out, fumbling to open his water bottle and take a drink.

“ _Well_ ,” Jonny challenges. His ears are so, so red and his eyes are stubbornly fixed on the road ahead. “What, you disagree?”

And no, he doesn’t, and Jonny’s not exactly wrong it’s just - they’ve only hooked up the once, and after Jonny was gone when he woke up in the morning, jumping straight in the shower after he came back from a run, yelling from the bathroom he wanted to get on the road as soon as possible, Patrick just assumed it was something they weren’t gonna talk about in the light of day. Much less like this.

“ _No_ ,” Patrick says, and it’s cool, it’s fine, he can roll with this. “But what the fuck, man, don’t bring up sex when we’re talking about my sisters,” and he’s laughing breathlessly now. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that right?” 

Jonny grumbles at him, but it’s more familiar than heated, and the silence that grows between them is easy. The late afternoon sun is starting to sink to their left, lighting up Jonny’s summer-browned skin, and the fine, just-too-long hair curling at the base of his neck. The 95 stretches ahead of them wide and open, and when Patrick reaches for the radio, he can’t be bothered to bitch that the station it comes on to is country.

They pass through Portsmouth not long after, and soon hit the bridge. Patrick watches the green “Maine State Line” sign approach.

“Alright, Maine,” he mutters nonsensically, blindly holding his hand out palm up for Jonny to slap.

He’s not expecting Jonny’s big palm to slide smoothly into his, and he’s not expecting him to easily tangle their fingers together. He can’t stop his arm from tensing.

He jerks his head around, expecting - he’s not sure really, but the “what the fuck” dies on his lips. Jonny looks totally content, just staring out the windshield at the road ahead, idly tapping his other hand on the steering wheel. He’s humming along too, a little tunelessly, to whatever country song is playing on the radio, Patrick doesn’t know.

It’s not - they don’t do this.

He’s too surprised to struggle when Jonny lets gravity do its work, gently but inexorably drawing their joined hands to rest on the console between them, unable to do much more than stare at the sight of Jonny’s big fingers tangled with his. 

“Want to grab dinner on the beach before we hit the hotel?” Jonny asks, his thumb idly brushing over Patrick’s knuckles. It makes him shiver a little, but he hurriedly covers it with a cough.

“I-yeah,” he agrees, voice a little rough. “Sounds good.”

Jonny glances over at him for just a second to smile, teeth flashing white, and squeezes their hands together. Patrick’s breath catches in this throat, just a little, because he just. He wants. And for the first time, he thinks maybe, maybe, he can have. 

“Alright, Maine,” he says again aimlessly, and when Jonny laughs short and bright, it’s the easiest thing to let his head relax against the seat and bite back a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> ty to heartstrings for listening to the idea, for being there along the way, and making me post it <3
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr at [nuuclearshow](http://nuuclearshow.tumblr.com/) or twitter at [fighteveryfight!](https://twitter.com/fighteveryfight)


End file.
